Page 26 of The Lyon Whisperer (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #79)

T he rumble of the carriage wheels filled the carriage, as Chase sat, dumbstruck, digesting Amelia’s words.

Never taking his arms from around her, he contemplated her upturned face. “You’re telling me the novel you’re reading describes a once-perfectly respectable woman who insists she and her lover not marry, but live as man and wife?”

His wife nodded.

“Why on earth would your club choose such a book in the first place? Perhaps I should monitor the novels you come home with.”

She scowled at him. “Sir, must I remind you, I have your word of honor that will do no such thing?” She made a half-hearted effort to push away from him. “If you’re going to be difficult—”

He pulled her pliant form back into his chest. “I shall abide by our agreement,” he grumbled, silently adding for now.

Evidently mollified, she rested her head on his shoulder and toyed with the buttons of his waistcoat.

He did not like the subject matter. On the other hand, she was soft and warm, and he was in need of a break from studying the endless rows of numbers written in small print.

“At first, all goes swimmingly, but then…” She paused to draw a shaky breath. “But then society shuns her. They’re horrible to her.”

“This surprises you?”

“I suppose not. It’s just so unfair.”

“How do you mean?”

“The man she lives with is accepted in society, while she is treated as a social pariah.”

“I see.” He did. What he did not see was why she would take the fictional woman’s hardship so to heart.

“The worst part is, the notion came initially from her mother, but later, her mother practically disowns her.”

“ Ah .”

She fisted her hand under her chin. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I have always fostered a strong belief my mother and I shared a kindredness of spirit. Father rarely speaks of her, but I’ve managed to glean things over the years and came to think, to hope, I suppose, she would approve of my sometimes-unconventional manner.”

“I’m sure she would,” he murmured.

She gazed up at him. “Really? Why do you say so?”

He had no substantive answer. He didn’t know the first thing about her mother, and his experience with his own had not impressed upon him a deep conviction concerning the infallibility of motherhood. He did know Amelia was a rare and special creature. He could not imagine her mother would not have adored her, had she lived.

She scrunched her brow. “You think she would approve of me, when you yourself have expressed concern over my behavior, going so far as to issue stern warnings should I fail to stay within the boundaries of social expectations?”

“I only want what’s best for you, Amelia.”

Her mouth curved downward. “Spoken exactly like my father, who has never approved of me. Do you know, I think he despaired I would ever make a favorable match thanks to my outspokenness and unladylike interests? I’m sure that is why he insisted we marry so quickly.”

If the subject of their hasty marriage never came up again, it would be too soon.

“Really, sir, I still cannot fathom why you agreed to his demand, what with your own stated doubts over my ability to behave in a manner aligned with your stringent standards.”

He sent her a faint smile, refusing to take the bait. “I have faith in you, and no real complaints about your behavior.”

She arched a black brow. “Really? Have your thoughts about my midnight ride changed?”

“No, but that happened only once, and you promised not to do such a thing again.”

“What about my proclivity to rescue helpless animals?”

With effort, he held onto his patience. “I have not tossed your charges out on their furry ears, have I?”

She resumed fingering his clothing. “No. But you have forbidden me to bring any others home.”

He said nothing.

“You have also warned me against speaking my mind in public and, thus far, seem to disapprove of every book I’ve read.”

“ Waverley was not an issue.”

She smiled slightly. She couldn’t argue that, at least. “That’s something, I suppose.”

“I would also like to point out I have found you neither overly opinionated nor outspoken.”

“Not to the extent my father led you to expect?”

He opened his mouth to refute her words, then closed it. He was still trying to come up with a conciliatory statement when she went on.

“I remind you the time I danced twice in a row with that horrid Lord Tully, you were greatly vexed.”

He sighed, and crooked a finger under her chin, tilting her head back. “Yes, well, I was wrong wasn’t I?”

Her violet eyes went wide.

“I was too hard on you. The truth is…” He paused. “I was jealous. I did not like seeing my beautiful wife in the arms of one of the ton ’s most notorious cuckolders, not to mention a man who would like nothing more than to cause me strife.”

Her expression softened. “As to that, he does not hold a candle to you, my lord. No man does.”

His chest went tight, and an unfamiliar emotion swamped him. It burned through him and felt a lot like need, and it bloody terrified him.

It also felt… very good .

He cleared his throat, which had gone suddenly dry. “I can speak for neither your mother nor your father, but as for myself, I must admit I find your admittedly unconventional views and unique approach stimulating, even admirable, if challenging at times. I would go so far as to say, I would be vastly bored by any other woman.”

Moisture dampened her lush lashes. “That is high praise, indeed.”

“That is not to say I’ve changed my mind concerning your disturbing tendency to forge blindly into potentially dangerous situations in your zeal to assist your apparently dim-witted husband in his investigations.”

She swatted his chest. “I never meant to insult your intelligence, my lord. I simply wanted—”

“—to help ,” he interjected.

She grinned.

He traced his fingers over her jawline. “Better now?”

“Yes,” she said softly, and pressed her cheek to chest. “I do love you so,” she whispered. A moment later she straightened. “I shall let you get back to your work for the remainder of our journey, as promised.”

He pulled her close. “I think not. I wish to rest my eyes a while longer, and I’m quite comfortable.”

She snuggled her face against his neck, and he thought he felt her mouth curve in a slow smile.

All too soon they arrived at Dodd’s residence, a cottage located on a remote street near the staging area where teams of timbermen converged to start and finish their days.

Chase eyed the dark windows and smokeless chimney from his vantage within the carriage as Amelia removed herself from his lap.

When she reached for her bonnet he said, “It does not appear Dodd is home. You may as well stay in the cab while I make certain.”

Chase opened the door and waved at Geoffrey to indicate he not bother with the carriage step. He vaulted onto the sparse grass with a vague notion in his head that the absence of the step might keep Amelia safely in the carriage.

He approached the small dwelling and rapped his knuckles on the front door. No one came to open it.

He closed a hand over the door lever. It turned easily. Unlocked, then. He opened the door, cautiously. That fast, the musty odor of dust and accumulated filth assaulted his nostrils.

“Do you think we should enter?” Amelia asked from directly behind him.

He shifted to face her, stifling a curse. “I thought I told you to wait in the carriage.”

“I wished to stretch my legs. Furthermore, must I remind you we both agreed I should be present in the event Mr. Dodd is available for questioning?” She tried to look past him into the darkened interior. “Do you think he’s inside?”

“One way to find out. I shall enter. You return to the carriage.”

“Why?” Her eyes met his.

“He may object to our presence.”

She pursed her lips in a considering manner. “I shall wait right here.”

He eyed the heavens, stepped inside, and shut the door very firmly in her face.

A steady sawing snore reached his ears immediately. A quick glance around the open space which served as a combination of the dining room and sitting area gave evidence to what his nose had already discerned. Discarded clothing, dirty dishes crusted with indeterminate food, mismatched cutlery, and a large brown bottle combined to cover most of the surface of a square wooden table in the room’s center.

He picked up the bottle. Empty. He sniffed the uncorked lip. Whiskey. Very fine by the nose.

He strode into the kitchen, located a tin bucket of water, then followed his ears to Dodd.

The man sprawled atop a rumpled bed, fully clothed. By all appearances he had not washed or groomed in some time. Patchy stubble covered Dodd’s face, and the smell of old sweat permeated the chamber.

Chase dashed water from the bucket on the man’s face.

He came to, jerking half upright, lids opening to reveal beady, red-rimmed eyes. “Wh-wha’ is this? Culver, s’that you? What the bloody hell do you mean, barging into a man’s home? You got no bus’ness—”

“I did knock,” Chase cut in calmly, setting the bucket aside. “When no one answered I grew concerned for your welfare.”

Dodd curled his lip and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He groaned and clutched his head in his hands. “Right. My welfare. What do you want, then, guv’ner? I’ve things to do.” Heaving in a breath, he rose onto stockinged feet and swayed a little as he hefted up his trousers.

The scent of Dodd’s stale breath, and remnants of his recent alcohol consumption, merged with the foul odors in the bedchamber to assault Chase’s senses.

The creak of rusty hinges announced the front door opening. Chase gritted his teeth. “I’m sure.”

He stalked from the room to find Amelia standing in the open doorway. The sun streamed in from behind her, illuminating her slender, graceful form.

Dressed in her pale-yellow traveling dress and matching bonnet, she looked delicate and completely out of place in the dingy cottage. She wrinkled her nose, whether at the disheveled state of the dwelling, or the malevolent odor, he couldn’t say.

“Quite. Leave the door open. It’ll help to air the place out.”

Dodd came into the living space, muttering under his breath, eyes squinting against the light. He gaped when he spotted Amelia, then a burst of energy had him darting toward her, arms flung wide. “My angel,” he exclaimed.

Chase reacted in an instant, lunging forward to fist Dodd’s collar in his hand. He jerked the man to a halt before Amelia managed a chirp of alarm.

“What the devil?” Chase snarled. He flung Dodd toward the table and chairs. “Do you have a death wish, man?”

Dodd issued a pitiful moan. “You ain’t her, my golden-haired angel from heaven.” He sank onto one of the wooden chairs, shoulders slumped, and dropped his head in his hands.

Chase exchanged a look with Amelia—hers expressed bafflement, his a stern message of reproof. He’d told her to wait outside. Adrenaline singing through his veins, he strode for the table, yanking out a chair. He gestured to the seat. “Madam?”

She shook her head, eyeing the furniture dubiously. “Thank you. I will stand.”

He grunted, then shifted his attention back to Dodd. “Pull something like that again, and it will be the last thing you do,” he said with deadly menace.

Dodd glared up at him. “I thought the lady was someone else.”

Chase returned the man’s glare.

Amelia inched farther into the room. She cleared her throat. “Mr. Dodd, we have a few additional questions for you concerning the recent fires. Isn’t that right, my lord?”

Chase sent her a quelling look.

She pretended not to notice.

“What?” Dodd demanded. “I already told you, I don’t know nothin’ about those fires, not to mention there ain’t been a fire since the last, and there ain’t going to be.”

His deliberately slow, calculatedly feral smile had the desired effect, and Dodd went very still, as if he realized what his last statement revealed. “That did not come out right. I only meant—”

“I knew it was you,” Chase said.

“You know no such thing,” he insisted, eyeing Amelia as if for assistance.

“But you did,” she said in her gentle, melodic voice. “When you claimed no further fires would occur. Who else but the arsonist could make such a claim, sir?”

His eyes got a hunted look. “It wasn’t me, I tell ya’.”

“It was you.” Chase leaned in. “But you did not operate alone. Tell me the name of your partner and I’ll instruct the magistrate to go easy on you. You have sixty seconds to decide.”

The haggard man’s face crumpled. “What does it matter? It was my angel who planned it all for me, and now she’s gone.” Tears filled his eyes, and he reached for the brown bottle, cursing when he discovered it empty.

Chase straightened. “Your partner is a woman?”

He nodded.

So much for his theory Tully had been behind the fires. “Her name? Where can I find her?”

Dodd sniffled. “Her name was Molly. The most beautiful woman who ever lived. From the moment she came into my life, everything changed. It was like God made her just for me. She knew what I needed before I did. She was my angel.”

“Was?” Amelia prodded softly. “Is she…”

“Dead,” he answered, dully. “Drowned.”

“I was told nothing of a recent drowning,” Chase said.

“I never reported it.” Dodd hefted a weary sigh, his emotions seemingly back under control. “Happened the night of the last fire. I found her shoes and this.” He reached under his shirt to withdraw an ampule hanging on a leather cord tied around his neck.

He uncorked the tiny bottle and held it to his nose.

An earthy, musky scent permeated the air. Chase had to admit, while he didn’t precisely care for the aroma, it was an improvement over Dodd’s mélange of body odors.

“She left everything, neat-like, beside the river where we said we’d meet, after…” He clamped his mouth shut and concentrated on corking the miniature bottle.

“After you started the fires?” Amelia put in gently. She’d edged closer, and Chase had to resist the instinct to drag her back.

Dodd nodded and gazed at her with pleading eyes. “Her shoes were laid out, one beside the other like she’d just stepped out of them, her perfume inside one o’ them, and her cloak…” He drew a shuddering breath. “I spotted it on a rock in the middle of the river where the water rushes past.”

“How dreadful, sir,” Amelia said.

A fat tear rolled down his cheek. “She loved me, see? Said as how his lordship deserved a bit of payback for what he did to me, letting me go like that.” He shot Chase a glare. “She hated the fancy much as I did on account of when she worked for one, the master o’ the house wasn’t content to lie with his wife, and forced himself on my angel, then cast her out with no references and not even her last week’s wages.”

Amelia shook her head in apparent commiseration.

Chase eyed the rafters. Neither Amelia nor Dodd paid him any mind.

“We were s’posed to run away after the last time, to make a fresh start, only”—he scrubbed a meaty hand over his mouth—“she must’ve gotten into the river to wash, or got driven in by the smoke. I looked and looked, God knows I did, but the river took her.”

He squeezed the ampule in his fist and kissed it.

They took their leave soon after Dodd concluded his story.

“Well, madam? You find me an ogre for having let the man go after catching him stealing, red-handed?” Chase asked as the carriage picked up speed on the main highway.

His gentle wife gave him a chiding smile. “Of course not. You did the right thing. I cannot help feeling sorry for the man, however. He fell in love and got his heart broken, and now will likely land in prison.”

“I will remind the magistrate no one got killed—save Dodd’s accomplice, although, it’s awfully convenient she disappeared without a trace.”

“ Mm . Yes, there is that. Mayhap whoever she was realized the jig was up and did not want to face arrest.”

“Maybe,” Chase agreed. “In any case, the mystery of who started the fires is solved, and it would appear no more arsons are likely to occur.”